


The Selection of Prince David Kenyon Webster

by InsightfulInsomniac



Category: Band of Brothers, The Selection Series - Kiera Cass
Genre: Angst, Caste System AU, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hate Speech, Homophobia, M/M, References to Abuse, Royalty AU, Some Humor, The Selection AU, Web's a prince
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 01:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsightfulInsomniac/pseuds/InsightfulInsomniac
Summary: Prince David Kenyon Webster is of age to be married, and his parents decide to hold a Selection against his will.Joseph Liebgott, a Six, needs money to support his family. When the Prince's Selection promises a hefty salary to all who are chosen to compete, he can't pass up the opportunity.Romance and drama ensue.





	1. Out of Necessity

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, y'all. This idea has been in my head for quite a while now, and I've finally started to write it. If you don't know the ins-and-outs of the Selection process and the caste system, check those two things out here:
> 
> http://theselection.wikia.com/wiki/The_Selection_(competition)
> 
> http://theselection.wikia.com/wiki/Caste_System
> 
> Finally, I mean no disrespect to any of the Band of Brothers vets or to Kiera Cass and her AMAZING series. All of the Selection technicalities are hers. 
> 
> I think that covers everything; enjoy!

David curses under his breath as the tip of his quill breaks, and instead of fumbling around in his grand mahogany desk for another one, he puts it down and lays his head in his hands.

There's a knock on his door. "Kenyon?"

He sighs. "Yes, Mother?"

"Please open the door. I only want to talk to you."

Begrudgingly, he does as she requests, noting the firm line of her lips when she notices his appearance. He's sure the disappointment is valid, as his silk jacket and vest are thrown onto his bed haphazardly, his shirt unbuttoned and his undershirt nearly as rumpled as his hair.

"What have you been doing to create such a mess?" She asks with an air of disdain, and David doesn't blame her; at the very least, his mother tries to care.

"I've just been writing, Mother."

"Very well," she sighs, moving to sit daintily in one of the velvet armchairs in the opposite corner of the room. "You know that your father and I only want the best for you."

David suppresses a snort, clearing his throat to cover it up. "Mother, I do not want to have a Selection. It's not in my best interest."

"Kenyon, your father has already put out the announcement. If you turned on his word, he would just enact his martial law as King."

She sighs again at his heartbroken expression. "Listen, darling. You might not believe so now, but the Selection works. I met your father through his Selection, and look where we are now."

 _Where, in an impersonal marriage and a strictly formal relationship?_ "I just don't think I'll meet anyone. That's all."

Joan places a hand on her son's shoulder. "You may surprise yourself. And besides, I was able to convince your father to account for your... preferences."

David blushes despite of himself. While his father wants nothing to do with him, at least his mother attempts to accept him. "Thank you, Mother. I appreciate that."

She nods curtly, standing and walking briskly to the door of his room, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. "You should know that I don't care about the caste of your spouse. As long as he makes you happy and can rule by your side."

"Thank you. That's all I want, too."

******

Joe flings the keys to his cab on the kitchen table as he shrugs off his jacket, plopping down into a creaky wooden chair. A pot of potatoes, one of the few foods his family can afford, boils on the stove as his mother sews a new dress for one of his little sisters.

"Joe! Joe! Did you hear?" Elizabeth, his youngest sister, runs into the room wielding a wrinkled piece of paper. "The Prince is looking for a husband!"

"Good for him," he replies dryly, only taking the paper from her little hands when she frowns up at him.

"Maggie said he's gonna pick thirty-five boys to compete to be his husband, Joe. You can be one of them!"

He snorts. "Like hell I'd do that. He's probably just some stuck up brat anyway."

"That sounds interesting," his mother walks over to them, peering over his shoulder at the colorful flyer. "Any male aged 16-20 may apply... that's you, Joe, you're nineteen..."

"I am not going to compete for the love of some asshole fed from a silver spoon!"

His mother gasps, and he looks up at her confusedly. "The Selected will receive a substantial salary to be sent home weekly to their families."

"Joe, would you buy me a new dollie if you go?" Elizabeth asks excitedly, and one look at his beaming sister, and Joe already knows what he's going to do.

******

The line at the photo station is too damn long, and Joe's got a shift in a half hour. He's been waiting to get his picture taken for almost an hour, his completed application growing wrinkled as he subconsciously fiddles with its corners.

All of the other men lined up are dressed to the nines in silk suits and perfectly styled hair, obviously twos or threes. There are a few more modest-looking attendees, but Joe is obviously one of the least fortunate there. Dressed in just an olive green t-shirt and jeans, he feels _very_ out of place.

Entering the small building, he can almost feel the eyes on him as he approaches the camera. He hears the doubt echoing in their minds; he knows it's there. _He's only a six, they say. He's not even going to get picked. Worthless scum._

Growing up at the bottom of the caste system has hardened Joe to the hate, but it's still there. It's always there, and he's not afraid to throw around a few harsh words or a punch if it gets too much.

But as he sits on the stool in front of the white background, running a hand through his hair in preparation, confidence builds inside of him. He may be a six, but he's got good looks and sheer determination. Thus, as a big ol' Liebgott "fuck you" to everyone who thinks he can't do it, can't get selected, he paints on the most charming, alluring smirk-smile he can muster. He looks good, and he knows it.

The camera flashes, and nothing but a quick "Dismissed, next." is all he receives. Still, feeling cocky as hell, he saunters out of the building as if he owns something, finding himself surprisingly eager to hear the results of next week's Selection announcement.


	2. So Much More Than What You Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David wants everyone to know he's not just a pretty face with a crown, but Joe wants to believe he is to try and push away that funny feeling in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day?? *Hears "Two medics in one hole?" in the distance*
> 
> Anyway, here's the second chapter. Hopefully you think it's a lot less boring than the first chapter :)

"Welcome back to the Selection of Prince David Kenyon Webster!" Lewis Nixon, Illéa's foremost talk show host and reporter, grins into the camera. "In just a few moments, our royal family will come out to announce the thirty-five lucky young men who will be competing for our prince's heart."

Joe's entire family is gathered around their tiny, grainy television, eyes glued to the screen. All seven of them watch the ornate doors where the royal family would soon appear with intensity, and Joe can't help but notice his racing heartbeat and sweaty palms.

Elizabeth sits next to him, practically bouncing is place. His other four sisters chat excitedly until his mother shushes them when Nixon begins to speak again.

"And here they come! Please welcome your King, Queen, and Prince of Illéa!"

Out of the castle emerges three finely-dressed, bejeweled figures, obviously forced smiles on their faces as they wave to the crowd. The Queen and King makes their happiness nearly believable, practiced and poised. However, as Joe quickly notices, Prince David looks utterly uncomfortable.

He also looks utterly gorgeous.

No one in the kingdom can deny that Prince David is physically attractive. With dark hair, bright blue eyes, plump lips, and a sharp jawline, men and women alike have fawned over him. Joe's not immune to it either, but he focuses on the fact that Prince David is probably reveling in all of the attention.

But he still notices the nervous way he bites his lip and wipes his hands on his silk pants every so often. Joe chooses to ignore that.

"Thank you, thank you, Nixon," King David nods at the reporter, who moves aside to let the royal family take center stage. "And thank you, people of Illéa. Your enthusiasm about Kenyon's Selection has been most delightful."

He flashes the camera a blinding grin, accepting the stack of papers Nixon offers him. "Now, let's get on to what you want to hear. Who are the thirty-five men who could soon be betrothed to my son, the heir to the throne of Illéa?"

The king puts a hand on David's shoulder, and another forced smile appears on the Prince's face. He's not nearly as skilled at faking it as his parents, and Joe can almost feel the grimace hidden behind his grin.

"First, Jason Attenborough, a three."

A picture of a sandy blonde boy, likely about 17, flashes onto the screen. He's attractive, yes, but most of the Selected will be.

"Carlisle Ayers, a two."

With dark hair and bright green eyes, a familiar face appears on screen. A very popular model, the man has been plastered on every billboard, magazine cover, and television screen in Illéa. He'll go in being the fan favorite, for sure.

The list continues on, with only a few fours and one five, Hanley Jameson, being chosen. When King David reaches the Ls, Joe's entire family holds their breath, waiting to hear what they want to hear.

"Wesley Lester, a three."

The picture of the redhead appears and disappears in a blur. The King shuffles around his papers, frowning for a moment at the next one before regaining composure.

"Joseph Liebgott, a six."

The world slows around him, the shouts of his family echoing as he imagines the disgust on some two's face who lost _to a fucking six_. He imagines the great punch in the gut to the royal family, to the look of disappointment on the king's face...

His portrait rises to the screen, and _damn_ , he's never looked better. Pride swells in his chest at the way the color of his shirt brings out the specks of green in his hazel eyes, how his smirk looks nearly predatory but completely effortless.

Still, Joe shakes off his sisters' hugs as he stares at the screen, searching the prince's face for any signs of the disgust his father displayed.

He finds none. In fact, he thinks he even sees the ghost of a smile flit across his features, and maybe it's in reference to his response one to of the questions on the application.

Joe remembers almost laughing at the words written on the page. _Are you a virgin?_

He figured that the king and queen just wanted someone who was pure, who wouldn't taint their son with their immoral actions. But, hey, being the honest guy he is, Joe decided to tell the absolute truth.

_If I was, I probably wouldn't know I am gay._

He can imagine that his answer is exactly what Prince David is smiling about, but the realist in him shuts that down almost immediately.

"George Luz, a three."

Joe perks up at that name. He and Luz were childhood friends, growing up together in different castes. Luz had never cared that Lieb was a six, and it wasn't until adulthood that they had to go their separate ways. Bubbly, outgoing, and comedic, Luz is loved by everyone. He's Joe perfect opposite, but they always worked well together.

At least he'll have someone to go through the whole thing with.

Breaking him of his reverie, Joe's mom shakes his shoulders gently. "You're going to be in the Selection!"

He lets out a small laugh, finally accepting his sisters' hugs as he wonders why he actually feels a little bit excited.

******

David sighs as he's escorted back inside, immediately making a beeline for his bedroom despite his mother's protests. Flopping down onto his bed unceremoniously, he buries his face in the goose feather pillows and lets the tears fall.

He doesn't want to have a Selection. He doesn't want to get married. He doesn't want any of this.

"David?" A knock accompanies his name, and he glances up as soon as he recognizes the voice.

"Come in."

Carwood Lipton, his primary advisor and official Selection coordinator, as his mother had appointed him, shuts the door quietly behind himself. "Hey, if you want to talk, I'm here. If you don't want to, I could get you some tea."

David sniffles as Lip sits on the edge of his bed, and he moves to sit up. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not really in the mood to eat or drink anything."

"That bad, huh?"

He nods sadly. "Lip, I can't take it. They don't care about me at all; they only care about looking good for the people. I don't want to get married; I'm only eighteen!"

Lipton sighs, putting a hand on the prince's knee. "I'm afraid that argument means nothing considering the history of royal marriages."

"I know," he whines, putting his head in his hands. "I just want to travel on my own accord and write about what I learn. That's it. But now I'm stuck here about to date thirty-five men who probably want nothing more than my status and my dick."

Carwood coughs. "David..."

The prince rolls his eyes. "Come on, you can't be that blind. They all think that I'm just some pretty thing they can take with the proper swooning. Lip, I'm so much more than a crown and a face!"

Another tear rolls down his face, and Lipton pulls the boy, no, _man_ he's grown to love into a hug. "Listen, David. I promise you that out of all of the men competing, there has to be at least one that will realize who you are in your entirety. And if there isn't, I'll be the first to say that you do not need to get married to any one of them."

David smiles weakly up at his advisor. "Thank you, Lip. Tell me again, when are you and Captain Speirs getting married?"

Carwood blushes. "That hasn't been discussed yet. Ron is very busy with training the new guards, and I'm obviously busy with the Selection..."

David groans. "Ugh, Lip. You guys are taking forever to finally make it official. You danced around each other for too damn long and now you're going to be old men who can barely walk down the aisle when you actually get married."

"Hey, at least we didn't take as long as Nix and Winters to get together. We at least have that going for us."

"But they're married," he points out, earning an exasperated laugh from his mentor.

"Point taken. If you don't get married, I guess I'll get married."

David raises his eyebrows, sticking out his hand to Lipton. "Deal."

Begrudgingly, Carwood shakes his hand, rolling his eyes in amusement at David's smug expression. "Now, David, get some sleep. It all starts tomorrow."

"Don't remind me," he moans, falling back into bed. "Wake me up at 7:30 if I sleep through my alarm again."

"Why do you even have an alarm anymore?"

He grins. "In case you sleep through yours."

Lipton snorts. "I don't need one; I have Ron..."

"And Ron has an alarmingly accurate ability to wake up on time, I know," David teases, throwing a pillow at the older man. "Now get out, I need my beauty rest."

Carwood grins. "Forget finding someone who will treat you like a prince; find someone who will treat you like a princess."

"Gender roles are a social construct!" He yells, chucking another pillow at Lipton's quickly retreating head. "Go crawl into bed with your lover while I enjoy my last night sleeping without one of my own."

Lip peeks his head back into the room from behind the door. "So help me, David, if you have a man in your bed that fast, I will be in here pulling his ass out of bed faster than you can say that you love him."

"Ah, but there's the kicker. I wouldn't be saying I loved him if he was just a one-time fu —" He notes the look Lipton is giving him. "Goodnight, Lip. Some guy's going to have to have a dick made of gold to get me into bed the first night."

Lipton's expression doesn't change, and David shoots him an innocent smile. "What?"

Shaking his head amusedly, Lipton shuts the door. "Goodnight, David."

"Night, Lip!"

It's not until he collects his pillows and lays down again that he's reminded of the cool tear stains and what they were from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lip as Web's advisor is my new favorite thing, period.

**Author's Note:**

> I am totally into this concept. Throughout the story, there may be a few nearly-identical scenarios to the books (just a warning). Therefore, if anyone catches on, don't spoil anything ;)


End file.
